


Temperature

by pearlgirl



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, F/F, Fridget, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, post-season4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlgirl/pseuds/pearlgirl
Summary: In the middle of the night, Bridget tells Franky what compelled her to become a psychologist.





	

Franky awoke amidst cotton bed sheets in the dead of the night. A breeze hit the exposed skin on her shoulders that her spaghetti strap singlet neglected to conceal. She felt cold. Once she brought herself to open her eyes, she was met with the sight of a leafy shrub swinging rigorously in the wind outside the window. The glass was covered in raindrops that were seeping into the stylish wallpaper beneath it. 

Whoever fell asleep last was responsible for closing the window and drawing the curtains. Franky knew the rule all too well and recalled Bridget had fallen asleep within minutes. 

Bridget never showed nor admitted it but Franky knew working extended hours to counsel those impacted by Bea’s death was taking a toll on her. She was now in higher demand than ever before and was constantly confronted by heartbroken women in tears, women in fits of rage, or, women threatening to find Ferguson and kill her. 

Many of the prison staff and guards had been leaning on Bridget for support too. What was once two friends meeting for wine after work had become informal counselling sessions as Vera couldn’t help but unload her many concerns on the psychologist. Bridget was a good friend and was happy to offer Vera her ear and some comfort. She in fact felt privileged that Vera trusted her enough to share the things she did with her. Franky, however, thought it possible Vera was unintentionally beginning to abuse the bond she shared with Bridget by seeking her psychological guidance more often than not. Yet she felt hypocritical for such a thought as she recalled Bridget had essentially given her informal counselling sessions when she had learnt of Bea’s death. She shuddered to think what she would have been like without Bridget’s support, strength and consistently calm demeanour. While she empathised with Franky, she had never cried in front of her and she wondered if her twenty plus years in psychology had enabled her to be immune to such a distressing incident. 

It had been a month since the ordeal and Franky still cried about it regularly. She cried for the women who needed Bea’s guidance and the future Bea and Allie would never have along with the friendship Bea extended to so many including herself. Franky was sure their bond was going to last until they were both well into their senior years and could laugh, during her regular Wentworth visits to see Bea, about the way their tattoos still looked so striking despite the loss of elasticity in their skin that naturally came with age. Franky considered Bea a friend for life. Devastatingly, Bea’s life had been cut short. Thinking of the little things in life Bea would miss out on upset her the most. 

Several more raindrops hit the glass outside. The way they sparkled in the moonlight as they trickled down the window was oodly beautiful. Being in prison and her recent reminder that life could suddenly be lost at any moment had caused Franky to find beauty in little things and it was often the little things she appreciated the most. She was beyond grateful for being able to go to the beach on a hot summers day and spend time with Bridget as they shared a fresh bag of hot chips for dinner while watching the sun go down amidst the shades of pink and orange that graced the sky. She knew being happy wasn’t about having the best of everything but rather making the best of everything and she had promised herself that’s what she would do with her time on Earth from now on. 

More drops of rain assaulted the glass. She wondered if they were Bea’s tears and she was crying tears of sadness for the life she had lost or maybe, shedding tears of happiness for ruining Ferguson’s. 

Reluctantly, Franky removed herself from the bed to shut the window. The breeze immediately ceased but she still shivered. She turned around to face the rest of the room only to notice Bridget was not asleep on the bed. It was then she comprehended the primary reason why she had been feeling so cold. 

Franky’s bare feet pattered down the hall. The loud clap of thunder probably would have startled her had she not spent time in Wentworth and become sadly accustomed to sudden noises and surprise encounters. She noticed a streak of yellow light escaping the crack under the closed bathroom door. Without hesitation, she approached it, pushing it open. She squinted at the stark bright light that hit her face before averting her gaze to Bridget who was kneeling on the tile floor clutching the toilet. 

Franky heard the gags that escaped Bridget’s mouth as her body convulsed in discomfort. The inevitable swoosh of the contents of Bridget’s stomach soon filled the toilet. 

“Gidge,” Franky spoke tentatively, slowly approaching her from behind. 

Bridget raised a hand in an attempt to ward her off but Franky retained her position in the room. She spluttered upon attempting to talk before throwing up again. Franky stepped closer before kneeling down and gently placing a hand on the back of Bridget's silk nightgown. 

“Shit Gidge, was my cooking seriously that fuckin’ bad?” Franky chuckled as she rubbed Bridget’s back. 

Bridget didn’t respond to her words and it wasn’t until Franky tucked a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear to ensure they remained away from her face did she notice the tears cascading over her structured cheekbones. 

Franky had not expected to find Bridget crying. 

Bridget never cried or rather, never let anyone see her cry, Franky thought. She reminded herself she had intruded on Bridget who had clearly shut the bathroom door for a reason. 

“Franky go back to bed,” Bridget spoke hoarsely as she reached an arm up to flush the toilet. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Franky responded as she wiped away a tear from Bridget’s cheek. 

“Just go to bed,” Bridget implored, moving away from Franky’s touch in an attempt to cease the hand rubbing circles on her back. “Spare me the struggle Franky… please.”

Franky bit her lip as a look of concern graced her face. 

“You’re puking your guts out… potentially because of the meal I served you for dinner and you’re crying. I’m not just gonna leave ya. How much of a heartless bitch do you think I am?” Franky spoke. 

Bridget turned to the side and was greeted by Franky’s furrowed eyebrows. She looked washed out and tired. 

“I… I don’t want you to see me… like this,” Bridget whispered, as though she were sharing an intimate secret in a large room full of people instead of just with Franky, the sole other occupant of the small but luxurious bathroom. 

Another tear escaped Bridget’s crystal blue eyes. She flushed the toilet once more before getting up and moving across the room to sit on the cool floor with her back slumped against the bath. Franky couldn’t resist moving to sit down beside her. With her own back pressed against the bath she pulled Bridget toward her until she was seated in her lap. She rested her chin on top of Bridget’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her waist from behind. With the tips of her fingers she tenderly began to draw patterns on her stomach through her nightgown in an attempt to soothe it. Bridget felt significantly hot, Franky noted, as she pressed one hand to the back of her sweaty neck before kissing the spot where it had been just after she removed it. 

Franky wasn’t sure what to do. She desperately wanted to aid Bridget and make her feel completely better, physically and mentally but she didn't know what to do or say to put her at ease. She was still visibly upset. Franky felt her shaking in her lap as an audible sob escaped her. Bridget put her head in her hands and all Franky could think to do was pull her back further into her chest and clutch her left shoulder with her right hand and her right hip bone with her left so she was engulfed fully. 

Bridget continued her desperate attempt to suppress her whimpers and it made Franky feel inadequate and useless - feelings she detested greatly. Bridget always knew exactly what to do to make her feel better whenever she needed and she wanted nothing more than to repay the favour. She knew that was one of the many reasons why romantic relationships between patients and their psychologists were not allowed. Relationships were supposed to be an equal, two way street, but, whoever the patient was could never return the emotional support the psychologist offered them as they had not gone through years of training to know how. 

Bridget hadn't formally treated Franky since she put an end to their sessions inside Wentworth but being a psychologist was a big part of who she was and sometimes it was hard to switch that part of herself off. She also wasn't reluctant to draw on her psychological expertise if she could see it would help Franky in some way when she needed it. 

Bridget took a deep breath and removed her hands from shielding her face. 

“Let me look after ya Gidge. You’re always looking after everyone else so isn’t it only fair someone’s looking after you too?” Franky rhetorically asked. 

“Franky I can look after myself thank you very much,” Bridget told her, merely tolerating being in Franky’s arms because she didn’t have the strength to move. 

“It doesn’t mean you should have to. If anyone’s taught me that it’s you,” Franky spoke. 

“Don’t use my own words against me,” Bridget breathed out in a stern tone as though the tears slowly trickling from her eyes were not affecting her. 

“Then stop trying so hard to resist my help!” Franky exclaimed. 

“I’m fine, truly I am. I think I just ate some bad chicken salad at work today. I thought it tasted odd. The kitchen is pretty bad without you running it.” Bridget rambled, trying to convince Franky she was alright. “And besides, I know how to help myself. You shouldn’t have to look after someone in my profession. It fucks with your mind when the patient has to suddenly try and become the psych. There is a code of ethics that’s in place for a reason.” 

“You’re not my fucking psychologist anymore!" Franky yelled, causing the hairs on the back of Bridget's neck to stand on end. "You’re my girl Gidge,” Franky spoke more softly while running her fingers through her blond waves, desperately hoping to put an end to Bridget’s refusal for support. 

Franky felt Bridget tense as she attempted to flee her arms and her heart felt heavy in her chest. Truthfully, Franky wasn’t sure if she was being selfish by seemingly holding Bridget captive in her arms. Being physically close to her made Franky feel more comfortable so she tugged Bridget back down to sit and she gagged, quickly raising hand to her mouth to try and stop vomit escaping. Unfortunately it sept through her fingers and she threw up on the pristine tiles. 

Franky felt alarmed, not having foreseen this as Bridget hadn’t credited her desire to get up to needing to be sick. Then she realised she shouldn’t have been so surprised as it was unlike her partner to ever admit to feeling anything but fine. Bridget was an undeniably strong woman but Franky knew everyone faced trouble sometime in their lives, some just hid it better than others. 

The guilt set in as Franky looked at Bridget’s embarrassed face, which was now completely red and flooded by tears. Bridget covered her eyes with one hand as she bit her lip in an attempt to supress her soft sobs. 

“It’s okay,” Franky kindly told her as she stood up to meet her in the middle of the room. 

Bridget didn’t say anything as Franky wrapped her arms around her petite frame, allowing her to cry into her shoulder. Bridget’s warm tears dampened Franky’s skin, trickling down her arms and over her tattoos while she observed the mess on the floor. The smell wafted up Franky’s nostrils and caused her to squirm a little but she ensured Bridget didn’t notice. Slowly, she coaxed Bridget to sit on the edge of the bath before speaking. 

“I’m going to run you a relaxing bath while I clean that up.” 

Bridget shook her head to oppose the idea and took a shaky breath. She swiped a tear away from the corner of her eye, determined to finally put an end to the steady stream. 

“Franky… you’re not cleaning that up. Let me do it... It’s disgusting.” 

“No way. A little puke is nothing compared to some of the shit I saw at Wentworth, believe me,” Franky declared as she reached over the bath to turn the water on. 

Franky stood before Bridget as the warm water began to gush into the bath. Steam began to waft around the two women. Bridget’s blue eyes met Franky’s and they spoke volumes to the brunette about how embarrassed she was. Franky tenderly reached for Bridget’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Hoping to offer her some comfort, she smiled at her sympathetically. 

“You know this is pretty humiliating for me yeah?” Bridget whispered in a defeated tone, averting her gaze toward the vibrant red towel hooks on the wall as if they were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Come on Gidge, you never judged me and I’m never gonna judge you. You know that,” Franky assured her, tracing delicate circles on the back of Bridget’s hand that aimed to soothe her. "No one can help being sick." 

“I know, but darling, I hate you seeing me like this,” Bridget murmured as she tilted her head back until she was looking at the roof. 

Franky’s heart rate increased slightly as thought Bridget was going to be sick once more but she soon comprehended she was staring at the bathroom roof in an attempt to blink back more tears that were threatening to fall. The realisation failed to put Franky at ease as she watched Bridget’s eyelashes rapidly flutter to try and stop tears from escaping. 

“I prefer seeing you at your lowest and being able to help you instead of you being alone during times like these. The idea of that makes ME feel sick if I’m being honest. Anyway, I’m gonna see you at your worst and I’m going to see you at your best cause I’m in this relationship for the long haul and that’s the way these things go,” Franky told her straightforwardly. 

Bridget tugged Franky closer and reached the hand that wasn’t already enclosed toward the side of her face. Franky leant down, immersing herself in Bridget's touch. 

“Ok now what bath bomb do ya want in that thing Gidge? Cause I just bought a whole new stash of them from Lush so you can take your pick,” Franky lightened the mood a little. 

Bridget chuckled under her breath as her tears finally began to cease. 

“Surprise me,” She whispered, as a small smile spread across her face for the first time since Franky had found her in the bathroom. 

Bridget watched Franky’s hips swing in her grey tracksuit pants as she walked over to the cupboard under the double basin to retrieve a bath bomb, carefully avoiding the mess that still remained on the floor. 

“I’ve got just the one. I reckon they named it after you actually,” Franky told her as she removed it from the packaging and walked back to where she was still seated on the edge of the bath. 

“Why? What’s it called?” 

“Sex Bomb,” Franky stated simply, with a glint in her eye and a smug smile. 

Bridget let out a laugh. 

Franky threw it into the bath and the two watched the array of vibrant pink and purple shades fizzle out and contort into an impressive swirly pattern. 

“It is fucking sexy isn’t it Gidge? But not nearly as sexy as you,” Franky told her nonchalantly, before pressing a quick kiss to the side of her face and finally leaving the room to fetch some cleaning supplies. 

Bridget shook her head at Franky’s antics, unable to believe how she, a nearly middle aged woman who had just vomited on the bathroom floor and now looked dishevelled from that and crying, could be sexy but she knew Franky was a rubbish liar. She felt so lucky to have such a special woman in her life. 

Bridget soon slipped out of her nightgown and immersed herself in the fizzling bath water. 

Franky returned with a mop, a cloth and a cleaning spray before diligently scrubbing the floor. Bridget closed her eyes and laid her head back against the end of the tub. She couldn’t bear to witness Franky mopping the floor. She was far too embarrassed to even look at her. 

“Are you feeling better? Be honest. Don’t give me bullshit,” Franky questioned, as she removed the cleaning equipment from the room once she was done and took a seat on the edge of the bath. 

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Bridget’s ear and placed her hand against her forehead. She still felt slightly warm but then again, Bridget always felt warm, she mused. 

“The nausea’s gone…” Bridget spoke quietly. 

Franky sensed she was going to continue speaking but silence enveloped the room.

“Want me to get in with you?” Franky tilted her head as she thoughtfully spoke. 

“Yeah, but you should go back to sleep or you’ll be too tired for work tomorrow,” Bridget responded, looking up at her with wide eyes. 

“Screw work. I wanna be here for you. You’re always here for me. Anyway, it’s not going to be anything a few famous Melbourne coffees can’t fix,” Franky scoffed as she slipped off her singlet and tracksuit pants before easing herself into the pink coloured water. 

Bridget watched as Franky’s tattoos became more vibrant as her arms made contact with the water before she extracted them, lazily throwing them over the sides of the bath implying she was relaxed. She sunk lower into the water and leant back against the white porcelain. Franky offered Bridget a small smile as she gazed at her from the opposite end of the bath. Sighing contentedly, she placed one of her legs between Bridget’s and gently moved it against her own in an attempt to ease her. 

“Thanks Franky,” Bridget breathed, shutting her eyes to immerse herself in the sensation of Franky’s smooth skin against her own. 

“Come here,” Franky gently told her, beckoning her toward her. 

Bridget moved through the water and turned around so her back was against Franky’s chest. Franky circled her arms around her slender waist, crossing them over before resting her chin on her shoulder. She loved holding Bridget in this position. She used to laugh at people she had been with in the past who suggested cuddling but with Bridget she found she seriously craved it. 

“I want to tell you a story,” Bridget said a few moments later. 

“Sure,” Franky responded, gently nuzzling Bridget’s shoulder with her nose to encourage her to continue speaking. 

Franky felt Bridget take a deep breath and shift slightly. The water responded to the slight movement with a faint ripple. 

“When I was younger, about seventeen, I started to feel really shit about myself,” Bridget revealed. “And it was weird because I was popular in school, I used to be friends with the ‘it’ girls for lack of a better term. I got into trouble sneaking out to parties, sneaking into clubs and drinking before I turned eighteen. I used to think I had to do all that stuff to maintain a ‘cool’ image, when in reality, I wasn’t very ‘cool’ at all,” Bridget laughed a little at the irony of it all. 

“I bet you were that girl who everyone wanted to either be, or, be friends with,” Franky chuckled, playfully pinching the skin on the side of Bridget’s arm. “Gidge, were you top dog of the school?” she teased. 

“Nah I wasn’t,” Bridget laughed, elbowing Franky for her teasing. “Some people hated us actually. Looking back I was so immature and I would have hated me too for the way I behaved. I wasn’t top dog but you could say my best friend was, so, I guess I felt like I had this image to uphold being friends with the group of people I was friends with,” Bridget revealed, as she stared blankly ahead at the bathroom wall. “It wasn’t healthy for me to be friends with those girls but I didn’t realise it at the time. I started to put pressure on myself to be more like them because physically, I was the odd one out of the group. They were all tall and thin and I was short and… of a normal weight… but I thought I was fat in comparison to them and that’s where all my problems started,” she sighed. 

“I bet you were smoking hot, even back then,” Franky assured her taking great pleasure in picturing a seventeen year old Bridget dressed in late 1980’s attire with her hair pulled back into a high pony tail secured by a scrunchie. 

“Well I didn’t think I was at all. My friends always got it on with all these guys and they started asking me why I wasn’t hooking up with any. I didn’t know why. I thought maybe no one was attracted to me. Then I realised, as you say Franky, I was a vageterian and maybe the fact that I wasn't attracted to guys and therefore hadn’t been flirting with them like my friends did had something to do with it,” she snickered. 

Franky chuckled and placed a gentle feather like kiss in the crease of Bridget’s neck while breathing in the coconut scent of her soft blonde hair. 

“So I came out and I wasn’t even nervous or reluctant to. I guess I wanted people to know that I wasn’t kissing guys because they didn’t want me - I just didn’t want them. Knowing that made me feel a bit better about myself,” she continued, leaning further back into Franky’s embrace. 

“I can imagine you coming out Gidge and not giving a flying fuck what anyone thought,” Franky chuckled, her warm breath hitting Bridgets shoulder. 

“Yeah I didn’t care. I was at peace with my sexuality but sadly my so-called ‘friends’ weren’t so understanding. They didn’t believe I was a lesbian and they accused me of making it up. They thought I was using it as an excuse to cover up the fact that I couldn’t find a guy who wanted to be with me. What hurt the most was that my apparent ‘best friend’ said I just needed to join a gym then they’d be all over me… all the other girls in my group agreed with her…” Bridget recalled sadly. 

Franky’s body tensed and she squeezed Bridget more tightly, letting her know she was there and willing to support her as she continued story. Teenage girls could be so cruel. She hated the fact that Bridget had once been made to feel so insecure. Franky could barely imagine it as she was now the epitome of strength and confidence. She suddenly realised that Bridget’s strength and confidence must have come from her unfortunately having a lack of it in the past. Much like herself, she realised, Bridget had worked to overcome her inner deamons. 

“I stupidly, so stupidly believed them because they affirmed the false notion I had in my head that my body was awful and that I was the ugly duckling of the group. I developed a massive eating disorder Franky – bulimia,” she breathed as her voice wavered slightly. 

Franky shifted in the bath and sought Bridget’s hand under the coloured water. The fizzle and bubbles from the bath bomb had long gone and the water was starting to feel cool but Bridget's body was keeping her comfortable. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t got to school with ya Gidge because I would have fucking killed the bitches…” Franky spoke, as she tightened her grip on Bridget’s hand.

The depth of her feelings for Bridget often took her by surprise. In that moment, it upset her knowing she hadn’t been there to protect Bridget from the brutality of such idiotic teenage girls. 

“I’m glad you weren’t because you’d have been put into juvi for killing them…" Bridget trailed off. "Anyway, basically I became obsessed with the gym and I would also force myself to throw up everything I ate because I thought even the tiniest bit of food would make me gain weight,” Bridget continued. “I got so unhealthy and I couldn’t see that what I was doing was bad. I couldn’t see that I was of a normal weight. Throwing up and excesivley working out used to make me feel good… like I was in control of my body, you know? But in reality my mind was out of control. Bulimia is very much a mental illness.” 

Bridget rubbed her stretched out legs against Franky’s. She internally admired how smooth they felt against her own before continuing to speak. 

“I was in a really dark place for months with no one to turn to. I didn’t want anyone at school to know what I was doing and my parents only found out when I collapsed and they had to take me to hospital. I was forced to start seeing a psych and only then did I begin to get better. That’s when I realised I wanted to study psychology and become a psychologist. I later decided to become a forensic psychologist because I thought then I could help people with all kinds of problems rather than specialise and help with only one. I basically chose psychology because I wanted to help people see that there was always hope that things would get better and they’d be okay. ” 

“You became the person you needed when you were younger and I reckon the fact that you know what it feels like to have lost all hope and self esteem has made you a better psychologist because you can understand and empathise with your patients. You get how sensitive people are because you experienced the same things. Your consideration for the way other people feel is something I like about you a lot,” Franky told her honestly. 

Suddenly, Franky had the urge to look Bridget in the eyes. The water sloshed as she momentarily pushed Bridget off herself and gently spun her around. Bridget looked dazed as though she were in her own little world as she relived the moments from her past she was sharing with Franky. 

When her eyes caught Franky's she closed them quickly. Her long dark eyelashes rested lightly on her cheeks. She didn’t want to look at her. She feared Franky would look shocked or disappointed, or worse, that she would look traumatised at Bridget revealing she hadn’t always been the gutsy, resilient, self confident person Franky always told her she was. It was so much eaiser telling the story to the wall instead of Franky’s face. 

Franky pulled Bridget into her lap, wrapping her legs around her own back beneath the water. She soon encircled her waist with her tattooed arms until they were chest to chest against one another. Franky felt the warmth of Bridget's body as their slick skin pressed together. 

“You’re so beautiful Bridget,” she whispered softly into her ear. 

Bridget felt herself getting goose bumps from the sensation of Franky’s hot breath hitting her skin. A few wisps of her blonde hair wavered and Franky gently blew them off her cheek. Bridget took a very slow and heavy breath in response to her partner's sentimental tone and meaningful words. Few people would believe Franky Doyle was capable of being so tender and Bridget felt privileged she was able to experience such affection from her. 

Franky pulled back from their embrace to run the back of her hand delicatley over Bridget’s cheek, tracking her defined cheekbones until she commenced trailing one finger down to caress her lip. Bridget shivered. Her eyes still remained closed. Her lips and cheek tingled from Franky’s indulgent touch once her finger moved on to lift her chin. 

“I don’t tell ya enough but you’re really, really pretty and I love your body,” Franky stated, tenderly pressing her lips to Bridget’s cheek for a quick kiss. “I mean that Gidge. You’re stunning. Look at you. You’re toned and you’re healthy and you're just sexy as fuck,” Franky told her, now tracing her index finger down the tanned skin of Bridget’s neck.

Franky parted their bodies slightly to enable her finger to continue it's journey down the centre of Bridget's naked form and pass over her bare chest and stomach. Bridget bit her lip in response to her finger. 

“You know I had the hots for you before I had even spoken to you in Wentworth. I still remember the first time I saw you. I was angry as, but I noticed you and they way you looked. How could I not?” Franky laughed finally removing her finger from its trail down Bridget's body. “Honestly I thought you were so damn attractive... I still do.” 

Bridget remained with here eyes sill closed but a small smile was beginning to tug on her lips. 

“I wanted to fuck you when you came into the slot to see me because you were so hot. But then once I'd talked to you a few times, got to know ya and all, I realised you weren’t only hot, you were also smart and mature, funny and edgy and real. You had so much respect for everyone, yourself included. I wanted to respect you because you deserved it. You also made me feel like I could trust you because you were the first person in so long I felt genuinely cared about me and I really started to care about you too,” Franky pulled Bridget forward so they were pressed together once more and began to slowly caress her spine before continuing to speak. 

“You made me feel things I hadn’t felt… well… ever really. Suddenly I actually stopped wanting anyone but you - which was weird because before that, I fucked any hot girl that crossed my path. Kim tried to fuck me you know, but I shoved her off because I only wanted you. We weren’t even together then but I wanted to be with you so badly, the thought of being with anyone else made me feel gross.. like I was being dishonest with myself and you,” Franky admitted, relishing in the way Bridget released a gentle sigh, reacting to the soft touches on her back. “No one else was as physically or mentally appealing as you. You outclassed them all. Fuck,” Franky struggled to find adequate words. 

Bridget’s eyes finally fluttered open and she held Franky's gaze with her blue almond shaped orbs. She blushed and reached a hand to cup Franky's cheek. 

“Baby,” Bridget breathed, implying her gratitude for Franky and her words. 

“I mean it Gidge. I would have tired harder to fuck you in Wentworth but I really did have too much respect for ya and I wanted to do things right because I knew I wanted more than just a fuck from you anyway. I would have made out with you that time in the library though, if you’d let me and bloody Vinegar-Tits Vera hadn’t interrupted us,” she chuckled at the memory. 

Bridget smiled with her lips still pursed together as she too recalled the memory. The wrinkles around the outer corners of her eyes became more pronounced as she did so and Franky thought it was gorgeous. She traced them with her fingers. She enjoyed the feel of Bridget's skin and simply touching it with her fingertips was one of her favourite things to do. She felt privileged that Bridget indulged her in being able to caress her whenever she wanted to because she liked her so much and they were not longer in Wentworth. Sometimes she still couldn't believe Bridget's feelings for her were mutual and that she was in a proper, functional relationship with someone she first thought was way out of her league. 

“I wanted to kiss you that day too,” Bridget spoke. “But I knew if I did I wouldn’t be able to stop," she revealed. "I didn’t want our first time to be fast and hard and rushed, or, clumsy, in amongst bookshelves in the freaking prison library. We both deserved better. I wanted our first time to be special and drawn out... intimate.” 

“It was,” Franky interrupted sincerely. 

“Indeed,” Bridget affirmed. “I’m also glad we waited because poor Vera would probably have needed counselling from the eyeful she would have copped and that would have been awkward for everyone considering I'm the prison psych,” Bridget laughed. 

"Nah you so could have flogged her off to that other guy like you did to me," Franky teased. "You could have said, 'sorry Vera I am reappointing you to another psych because you caught me hooking up with the sexiest inmate in the whole damn prison'."

"Actually darling, Vera probably would have suspended me before I got the chance to do anything, lets be realistic here," Bridget responded jokingly. 

Franky chuckled as she hugged Bridget again, she couldn’t resist because she looked so much better, happier and relaxed now that her nausea appeared to have subsided and she had revealed a troublesome part of her past to Franky. Franky felt honoured that Bridget trusted her enough to share it with her. Bridget was equalling out their knowledge of each other and their lives before they met and Franky felt touched by her efforts. 

“Thanks for sharing all that with me Gidge,” Franky told her sincerely a few minutes later. 

“Well throwing up reminds me of that traumatic time in my life. I wanted you to understand why I was so upset before, so you didn’t think I was totally stupid or pathetic for crying over being sick,” Bridget spoke, resting her head on Franky’s shoulder. 

“I’d never think that Gidge,” Franky assured her. “And I do understand. Sometimes shit from our past haunts us. At least we’ve got each other to lean on now. And I want you to lean on me whenever you need me. You don’t have to pretend to be strong around me. You’re not my psychologist anymore and this is the last time I’m reminding you of that fact.” 

“Thanks Franky. I appreciate that. I really do.” 

“And I know with all that’s been going on at Wentworth recently, you’ve been having to be strong for everyone there too. I think you’re really incredible for being so cool and calm and knowing exactly what to do to help people who need it. I know you hate people seeing you vulnerable, but tonight I think you handled yourself with strength. It takes courage to open up to someone and talk about your past, I know that. If I’m being totally honest, all the stuff you just told me has convinced me you’re braver and more confident than ever,” Franky concluded her speech. 

Franky watched as Bridget suddenly peeled herself away from her and rose out of the bath. Drops of water trickled off her tanned naked body as she stepped out of the tub. Only then did Franky realise how cold the water they had been sitting in was. 

“Are you feeling sick again? Are you going to be sick? Let me help you,” Franky rushed up after her, grabbing a towel off one of the red hooks and wrapping it around herself. 

“Relax. I’m fine now. I honestly, truly do feel okay. I’m just going to brush my teeth because I want to make out with you but I don’t want you having to bear the aftertaste of any vomit,” she laughed as she reached for her toothbrush. 

Franky approached Bridget from behind and removed the towel from herself before wrapping it around Bridget’s waist. She held her arms around Bridget’s middle as she began to kiss the side of her neck. She looked at them in the mirror and Bridget soon met her eyes in the reflection. 

“You’re beautiful Bridget and I still can’t believe I’m really with you. You’re so fucking sophisticated and nice to everyone, even the annoying people at Wentworth… did I mention you’re hot?” Franky murmured against her damp skin. 

Franky noted that Bridget's fever seemed to have ceased and her temperature had now returned to its normal warmth. She always made her feel warm too, Franky marvelled, as she continued to suck on Bridget’s neck. She also made her feel comfortable, safe and lucky and oh how Franky wished Bridget would hurry up and finish brushing her teeth so she could make her feel hot in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Well done if you read the entire fic! I realise it was veryyyy long for a 1/1 so I hope you don't mind... The words just kept pouring out of me! This is my first Fridget fic and I enjoyed writing it so much I'm now considering writing a multi-chapter Fridget story but we'll see. Being my first Fridget fic, I'm quite anxious to see how this is received but I'd be most grateful to hear your thoughts and feedback. Thank you!


End file.
